


The Final Flight

by UMdancer98



Category: Batman (1966), Batman (Comics), Batman Beyond, Batman and Robin (Comics), Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dick Grayson is awesome, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UMdancer98/pseuds/UMdancer98
Summary: A new villain has come to Gotham City with a dark purpose and Robin is forced to face his past.
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first piece of fanfiction I ever wrote. It's not the best story I've ever written but I decided to post it anyway. :) My original character in this story is Irish but I didn't "write" his accent; there are just some little reminders scattered throughout. Batman and Robin go back and forth between genres and are sometimes completely out of any characterization. I write it the way it enters my head, which is not always "historically" accurate. Italics usually represent thoughts to oneself but are sometimes used to add emphasis. Thanks for reading! :)

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

The first thing fifteen-year-old Dick Grayson heard upon entering Wayne Manor was the steady rhythm of the Batphone. Glancing at his watch, he realized that Bruce was probably still at work but…where was Alfred? Maybe he was out running errands. Looking cautiously around for his Aunt Harriet before remembering she was visiting a friend, Dick entered the study and went to the phone.

“Yes, Commissioner.”

“Robin, we need you and Batman here as quickly as possible! Bruce Wayne has been kidnapped!”

The commissioner was speaking so rapidly that Dick was having a difficult time understanding him. But then it registered, and Dick almost dropped the phone. Bruce had been taken!

Quickly recovering, he replied, “Be right there.”

Without waiting for a response, the teenager hung up the red phone and shrugged off his backpack. He flipped open the head of the bronze bust on Bruce’s desk and turned the switch to slide the bookcase aside, revealing the Batpoles. Racing over and practically leaping onto his pole, he slid down and became Robin in record time. A plan; he needed a plan. Alfred wasn’t around to wear the extra Batman suit so Robin would have to go alone.

_Not allowed to drive the Batmobile, why did you have to go and get yourself kidnapped as Bruce Wayne, don’t have keys to the Bat-jet or Bat-boat, couldn’t drive either one anyway, please don’t be dead, why don’t I have my own mode of transportation, too far to walk…._

Thoughts rushed crazily through his head as he paced around the Batcave, trying to figure out a way to get to Gotham police headquarters. He also had to come up with an excuse for Batman’s absence, one suitable enough to convince the commissioner to share whatever information he had with Robin. 

An idea popped into his head and he ran to the Bat-Suit Chest of Drawers, grabbed an extra Robin suit and stuffed it into one of the several small duffel bags stored nearby. He raced back to the Batpoles and pushed the ‘Robin’ button on the Compressed Steam Batpole Lift, shooting himself back up to the Manor. Emerging from the study as Dick Grayson, he sprinted through the kitchen toward the garage – pausing just long enough to grab a set of keys off the counter.

Allowing himself a small grin, Dick hopped into the driver’s seat of the Camaro, buckled in and put the key in the ignition. He turned the key, but nothing happened; not even the rumble of an engine attempting to turn over. Suddenly the car’s alarm went off, creating a domino effect of screeching cars down the long garage. Sighing angrily at the trap Bruce had obviously set up to keep him from doing exactly what he was trying to do, Dick bent down and ripped the wires out. He was having trouble concentrating with all the noise but he finally got the car to start.

 _How to hot-wire a car: watch Batman carefully when he has to do it during a patrol, repeat what he does. Easy as a backflip. Bruce won’t be happy when he finds out that I know how to do this. Neither will Alfred._

Mentally both complimenting and reprimanding himself, Dick pushed the button to open the garage then adjusted the mirrors. As he watched the tall door begin its ascent, he went over the checklist Bruce had drilled into his head:

“Buckle up – easy; adjust mirrors – done; remind yourself which one is the brake – duh!; both hands on the wheel…” 

He trailed off as the door finished its rise to the ceiling and began trying to assure himself that everything was going to be fine. 

“Okay, here we go, so what if I don’t have a licensed driver in the car, I’ve been practicing, I can make it there, it’s only 15 minutes away, Bruce needs me.”

Dick had only practiced driving around the Manor; he had never even been _close_ to a real street yet. Taking a deep breath, he put the car in drive and gently pushed on the gas pedal. Slowly he coasted down the long driveway and turned right onto the private road that led to the Manor.

_Whatever information I get from the commissioner will be stale by the time I get there. Why did I think this was a good idea? ‘Cause it’s the only one you’ve got._

Turning left to exit the private drive, Dick merged easily onto the street. He grinned – that was painless _._ Then, remembering why he was doing this in the first place, he threw caution to the wind, pressed hard on the gas pedal and zoomed down the road.

Traffic was light and fairly easy to weave through – in his mind, anyway. The teenager was rewarded for his driving and weaving expertise with the sounds of car horns blasted by irritated drivers and the frantic shouts of startled pedestrians all the way to the city center, where he began to slow down. When he arrived at Police Headquarters, he pulled around to the back and parked in the alley, hoping the cherry-red convertible wouldn’t be too noticeable.

_Probably should have gone with the black Corvette instead. Too late now._

He looked around carefully, taking note of every opening that faced the car: two windows from the police station on the west side of the alley and the back door of a house on the east side. Grabbing his duffel bag, he exited the car as quietly as he could. Now he just had to find a place to change. 

* * *

Bruce Wayne sighed through the tape on his mouth. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t he have been attacked as Batman; at least he would have been able to defend himself. In fact, he probably could have avoided the whole situation. But, as Bruce Wayne, he had to be weak and defenseless. That’s why he was sitting here – his arms knotted tightly behind his back – watching this unknown villain playing with a pen while apparently trying to decide what to write on the ransom note. If he could just bend his elbows, he would gain enough slack in the rope to slip his arms out, which would help enormously with the problem of the fishing net tangled around his legs and secured with his own tie. 

“Feelin’ lonely, are we,” the stranger commented in a thick Irish brogue, flipping his dark bangs out of his eyes as he turned to look at his captive.

“Hmmphff,” replied Bruce. 

The man laughed, “That was a rhetorical question, lad. How you’re feeling doesn’t matter to me. You canna’ answer anyway.”

Bruce glared. _I will find a way to get out of this and you will regret it._

The man’s laugh turned into a snort of derision and he rolled his eyes.

“Cuz I’m sooo scared of a littl’ glare. You hot shots are all the same: ‘I’m gonna get free, you won’t get away with this’ blah, blah, blah.” 

Shaking his head, the man turned back to his note.

Bruce stifled another sigh and tried to wiggle the rope away from his elbows. Nothing was working; the man was obviously well-versed in the art of knotting. He looked up as he heard muttering:

“Dear Batman and Robin. No, not original enough. To the Caped Crusaders. No. Come on, think!”

Bruce laughed in his head. The guy couldn’t even get the note started! Sobering, he realized that the message was for _Batman and Robin_. The commissioner would use the Batphone and Robin would answer it. Robin would be the only one receiving whatever ransom information the villain was going to provide and Robin would be the only one coming after this unidentified man.

Batman didn’t like not knowing anything about the bad guy and he definitely didn’t want his young partner running blind into this situation. But he knew Robin would come anyway so he worked harder to get loose. If he could get free before the man sent the ransom letter, nobody would even know he’d been kidnapped. A shadow fell over him and Bruce berated himself for not paying attention to his surroundings.

“So, you want to get out of your bindings, then?” the man inquired.

“Hmmmphff,” Bruce replied again.

“Hmmmm. I couldn’t understand you. I guess that’s a no. You should probably stop strugglin’ if you don’t want out.”

Bruce didn’t see the hit coming and his world went dark.

* * *

The house looked deserted. Dick stayed close to the wall and crept soundlessly along the back of the dwelling, searching for signs of life. He slid quietly around the southwest corner and was greeted with the low growl of a skinny, orange tabby cat that was just waking up under the sill of an open window. Taking one last glance around, and seeing nothing human, he went for the window, causing the cat to scurry away.

Climbing in without making a sound, he dropped to the floor as soon as his feet hit the ground and went through the hearing checklist in his head: singing, footsteps, talking, breathing, none of the above. He mentally checked the last box then did his best to stay low and travel silently, moving quickly toward what he assumed to be the kitchen and hoping a bathroom would be nearby. There it was – he would have to go past a large bay window to get to it.

The teenager paused to listen one more time then advanced on his hands and knees, disturbing some dust bunnies on the way. Doing his best not to sneeze, he crawled into the bathroom, shut the door as gently as he could and, breathing a small sigh of relief, stood up. There was a loud ‘click’ as he locked the door and he froze, anticipating some kind of reaction to the sound from somewhere in the house. Nothing happened so he swiftly changed into Robin and stuffed his regular clothes into the duffel bag.

_Almost done; just have to get out of here._

Unlocking the door produced, in his mind, a booming sound and he cringed as he cautiously opened it and looked around, still listening carefully. Deciding to change his tactic, Robin took a deep breath and ran, whizzing past the bay window and diving head first through the open window he had used to enter. It was closer to the ground than he remembered and his forward roll out of the dive was awkward and noisy. Crouching as he finished the roll, he scanned the police station windows, hoping there were no eyes watching. 

The Boy Wonder stood up and started across the alley, tossing the duffel bag into the car as he passed. Grabbing his Bat-a-rang and attaching it to his Bat-rope, he threw it toward the roof of the station, smiling as he felt it pull taut in his hands. He started Bat-climbing as soon as he was close enough to the wall to jump onto it.

_No Batman behind me; that’s a strange feeling._

Robin suddenly realized that he didn’t have an excuse for Batman’s absence. He thought frantically as he ascended but nothing came and he was already at the top of the building. Acknowledging some officers on the roof with a nod, he made his way to the door leading to the stairs. One minute later he was approaching the commissioner’s office and he still didn’t have any ideas.

_Holy nick of time – he’s out of the country! But, why?_

Excuses raced through the teen’s head, each one more improbable than the last. The door was open, they had already seen him, he was out of time.

Commissioner Gordon looked up from his desk as Robin entered his office. He, along with Chief O’Hara, waited for Batman to appear behind the Boy Wonder. There was an awkward silence as Robin stood in the center of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, alone and shifting from one foot to the other.

“Where is Batman?” the commissioner asked as he walked around to the front of his desk. “Bruce Wayne is one of the most influential and important people in Gotham!”

_The Caped Crusader wouldn’t send Robin up alone. He would want to hear the information first-hand._

Confusion swirled around the thoughts and the commissioner suddenly began to worry. Had something also happened to Batman?!

Robin, folding his arms across his chest and doing his best to imitate Batman’s commanding presence, answered, “He is currently out of the country on official business that I assured him I would not disclose to anyone.”

That sounded so lame, even to Robin’s ears. But, it was the best he could come up with and it had to work.

Chief O’Hara’s mouth dropped open. “He left Gotham unprotected?”

The man noticed Robin glare at him and, realizing he had insulted the boy, quickly shut his mouth.

“Not entirely unprotected, Chief. I _am_ capable of defending the city, even if I’m not as formidable as he is,” Robin nearly snapped.

The commissioner cleared his throat. “Well, then, I suppose you will have to proceed on your own until he returns. When do you expect him back?”

Turning back to the commissioner, Robin mentally sighed.

_When Bruce Wayne is free._

“He didn’t give me a timetable. Please give me whatever information you have and I will do my best to solve this problem,” Robin replied, his words clipped with frustration. Sometimes being ‘just a sidekick’ had its drawbacks.

Commissioner Gordon shot a quick glance at Chief O’Hara, silently scolding him for offending the Boy Wonder while also recognizing his own insult. He handed a small, plain envelope to Robin.

“I found this in my mail which, regretfully, I didn’t open until about thirty minutes ago. I used the Batphone as soon as I read it.” 

Robin had opened the envelope and was scanning a piece of paper with words that had obviously been cut from a magazine: ‘I have Bruce Wayne. The next envelope is not for you.’ 

“Just a few minutes ago a small bird flew in that window,” the commissioner continued as he pointed to his left, “and dropped this envelope before flying out.”

Turning back to his desk, Commissioner Gordon retrieved a sealed envelope. Then he faced the Boy Wonder again and handed it over.

“It was a thrush,” Chief O’Hara supplied helpfully. “I enjoy birdwatchin’…” he trailed off as he noticed Robin glance at him, annoyed at the interruption.

The commissioner cleared his throat again then resumed speaking.

“We did not open this one, of course, since it is addressed to you and Batman. Please…” he trailed off in surprise. Robin had raced out of the room before the man could finish.

Robin raced to the roof and quickly Bat-climbed backwards down the Bat-rope. Not caring if he was seen, he jumped into the Camaro, hot-wired it again, and carefully pulled out of the alley and away from the station.

_I should probably be a little less reckless on the way home._

The teenager knew he wouldn’t be able to explain why he was in one of Bruce Wayne’s many cars if he was in an accident. Then again, Bruce’s life was on the line. Deciding to take the risk, Robin hastily turned left onto the busy street, narrowly avoiding hitting three cars on his way to the far right lane. He was a little shaken up but he pressed on, although he did slow down. He couldn’t help Bruce if he was severely injured or dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, RozeRoos and DebbieF! :)

Bruce awoke with a large headache and the smell of dirt in his nose. He was lying on his right side on a dusty floor, still tightly secured. Keeping his eyes closed, he listened carefully to his surroundings. No scratching of a pen on paper so the note must have been written. Or, maybe the guy had given up on the letter and just left him here. That would be fortuitous.

Opening his eyes, he was disappointed to see the man on the opposite side of the small room, sitting on a chair with his feet up on a desk, staring at him. Bruce struggled to sit up and then leaned against the creaky wooden planks that formed the wall behind him, staring straight back at the man the entire time.

The villain idly stroked a small bird with his right index finger as he grinned.

“I finally figured it out. After sending the first message that informed the police of your kidnapping, I addressed the second ‘For the eyes of the Dynamic Duo’ and had it delivered by my beautiful little thrush. I’m sure the police won’t try to open it. Do you want to hear it?”

Not waiting for a response he continued, “Batman and Robin: As I’m sure you have learned, I have Bruce Wayne. He will be freed as an exchange for Batman. I will call the police station at exactly 7PM with the time and place. Don’t miss that call because if you do then Bruce Wayne will die. I look forward to speaking with you. The Darkling.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes: an exchange for Batman. The Caped Crusader knew his partner well – Robin would probably attempt to turn it into an exchange for himself. He had to escape before 7PM. There was no way he was going to allow Robin to do this – he would not let his young partner willingly put himself in danger to save Bruce Wayne.

Realizing he didn’t have tape across his mouth anymore Bruce asked, “What makes you think Batman will change places with me?”

“Are you an idiot? I have carefully studied Batman’s modus operandi. His mission is to protect the citizens of Gotham, not to protect himself.”

The Darkling stood up and walked over to Bruce. Crouching in front of him to double-check the tangles and knots he stated, “Batman will swap places with you, I have no doubts about that. I do have some concern with his ability to distract people with the boy. I will, however, be prepared for any circumstance. You make a nice piece of bait.”

Laughing, he rose and walked back to the desk. As he turned to face Bruce and sat down in the chair he added, “I need to plan so if you start chattin’ or wrigglin’ around again I’m going to have to knock you out for a second time. I won’t be as easy on you, though, so you might want to consider your actions carefully.”

* * *

Robin made it back to Wayne Manor with no accidents or other issues. Breathing a sigh of relief as he pulled into the garage, he parked the car and ran inside, hoping Aunt Harriet was still out with her friend. The Boy Wonder sprinted to the study and slid down his pole to the Batcave. Slipping his right index finger under the seal of the envelope, the teen slid it open as he dashed across the room. Upon arriving at the Bat-analyzer, Robin placed the envelope on the screen and opened the note.

An exchange for Batman?! How was he going to work _that_ out? He wouldn’t put Alfred in danger and there was nobody else who could pretend to be Batman. He was too small; the extra suit wouldn’t come close to fitting him. Robin began to pace around the Batcave, stopping once to place the note on the Bat-analyzer and check the status of the envelope – no indications of anything so far.

He continued pacing, racking his brain for any theories of how to save Bruce without an exchange. Or…maybe the villain would trade Bruce for Robin? He specifically said ‘Batman’ but maybe he could be persuaded to downsize. He punched his left hand with his right fist.

_If I knew who it was I could be better prepared. A message from ‘The Darkling’ delivered by a thrush…. Why do those words sound familiar?_

The Boy Wonder stopped at the Bat-analyzer again. Still no clues on the envelope but there was a small, light smudge on the note. He seized it and turned to the Bat-computer, slipping it into the opening near the bottom.

_Please let it be a fingerprint; one that is in the Bat-computer’s database._

* * *

The man had gone to get some dinner, but not before wrestling Bruce onto a chair and securing him tightly. Bruce was strong but, since he was already tangled and tied, The Darkling had the upper hand. He had no doubt that Robin was going to take the call and try to convince the villain to choose him instead of Batman. There was obviously no way Bruce could stop him from doing that.

He really hoped that Robin would remain calm and remember his training on hostage negotiation. The Boy Wonder wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions; allowing panic or fear to manifest itself in his voice would give The Darkling an advantage. Hearing Bruce’s familiar tone would, hopefully, force those emotions away. Therefore, it was essential that the man let him talk to Robin during the call. 

Bruce needed to work out a plan, identify some clue that would enable Robin to be at least a little prepared for the trade.

_His name and bird – The Darkling Thrush is a poem. Is there some clue in the poem?_

Bruce became frustrated as he realized that it was one of the few poems he didn’t have memorized. The only thing he could do was look around for something, anything, to help his partner be ready for this unknown villain.

“You’re not going to find anythin’ here that will help Batman. He’s not known for his flyin’ skills anyway,” the Irishman assured Bruce as he came up behind him.

_Flying skills?_

Bruce, slightly insulted at those words, studied the ground, trying to figure out how flying would fit into an exchange.

_It has to be something reasonably safe; he’s not going to put himself in danger._

Noticing Bruce’s head drop, the man chuckled. “Oh, is soft little millionaire man giving up already? No need to fret, you’ll be a free man by midnight and I’ll have a Bat in my clutches.”

As he walked away he tossed some final words over his shoulder, “He’ll make the exchange, of that you can be sure. Almost time for a phone call,” he declared, the excitement in his voice thickening his accent.

Was it already 7PM? Bruce hoped Robin had some type of information. He would not allow his partner to take his place, _no matter what_.

* * *

Robin groaned in frustration. It was not a fingerprint. He placed the note back on the Bat-analyzer and dejectedly sat down on the stool.

_The Darkling…a thrush…it’s a poem!_

Robin went to the Bat-shelf of Poems and looked it up. Quickly skimming the lines, and finding no obvious clues, he closed his eyes.

_Okay, so the bird sings when everything is gloomy. I don’t get it…._

A quick beep sent his eyes back to the Bat-analyzer where some paper was being distributed from the side of the machine. Robin ran over in anticipation of receiving information, hopefully something that would help him plan. Snatching the paper, he discovered that the smudge was dirt mixed with…chalk? A school, an office building, there were so many places that used chalkboards!

_Holy impossibility, there’s no way to check everywhere! And how is this connected to a little-known poem?_

Glancing down at his Bat-watch, the Boy Wonder widened his light-blue eyes in shock: it was almost 7PM! He still had to get to Police Headquarters to take the call! He still had to _tell the commissioner_ that a call was coming! Darting over to the Batphone, he picked it up and waited for the commissioner to answer. Robin hoped he hadn’t left for the day. Why hadn’t he called him as soon as he returned to the Batcave and read the note?!

Closing his eyes he begged the commissioner, “Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up, _pick up the phone_!”

The last phrase was shouted in both panic and frustration. The teenager opened his eyes in satisfaction when he heard a ‘click’.

“Bat, uh, I mean Robin. Do you have something for us?” Commissioner Gordon didn’t realize the relief his voice brought to the boy on the other end of the line. “I’m about to leave; you caught me just in time.”

“DON’T LEAVE,” Robin shouted, startling the commissioner. “Bruce Wayne’s kidnapper is going to call your office at 7PM and if we don’t answer then Br…Mr. Wayne dies!”

“When did you find out about this? Why are you calling me at the last second; I could have been gone!”

The tone in Commissioner Gordon’s rising voice was clearly one of irritation directed at the Boy Wonder and he couldn’t stop himself from comparing the boy to the man.

_Batman would have called right away._

“Yeah, sorry, the note…and I…clues…no time to explain,” Robin, embarrassed by his negligence, stuttered out the broken sentence. “So, uh, will you hold the phone up to the Batphone when you get the call? Please,” he remembered his manners. Alfred would be pleased.

“Yes,” the commissioner’s voice was curt as he heard the phone ring. “This must be the call; wait just a minute.”

He didn’t waste time with a please. _Batman would have called right away._

“This is Commissioner Gordon speaking.”

“Well, hello there,” a heavily accented voice said. “I was expecting Batman so please pass the phone to him.”

Not wanting to give the person the satisfaction of hearing the worry in his voice, the commissioner said nothing and placed the phone’s receiver next to the one connected to the Batphone.

“Hello, anyone there?” the individual asked brightly.

Robin took a deep breath. “This is Robin speaking. Where is Bruce Wayne?” he inquired, trying to stay calm and remember what Batman had told him about hostage situations. It was difficult, though, knowing that his partner – no, his guardian – was the prisoner.

“I asked for Batman!” the voice declared, anger filling his tone.

“And you got Robin,” the Boy Wonder retorted. Irish? He couldn’t be sure.

“I assume you read the note _boy_ ,” the person continued. “And, since I will give you the benefit of the doubt when it comes to your readin’ abilities, you know what it said. This conversation is for _Batman_ , not his little sidekick.”

The voice was condescending as it spoke and Robin rolled his eyes in irritation.

“I’m going to present you with an offer,” the Boy Wonder practically snarled. “One you should consider carefully. I will trade myself for Bruce Wayne and, eventually, Batman will come looking for me. That gives you _two_ for the price of one.”

_This is a stupid plan._

It was all he could think of, though, so he really had no other options.

“Why would I exchange one of the most important people in Gotham for a mere boy? Why am I still talking to you?! Give the phone to _Batman_!” the man exclaimed angrily.

“No!” Robin shouted then instantly tried to calm himself. He couldn’t help Bruce by antagonizing his captor. “Like I said before, if you take me now you will get Batman later.”

“Batman isn’t there, is he, sidekick? You said ‘eventually’ Batman will look for you. This makes things more interesting,” The Darkling murmured.

Robin scowled as he realized his mistake.

“Listen, either you exchange Bruce Wayne for me tonight or you will _never_ see Batman. Well, until he catches you and throws you in Arkham.”

The teenager held his breath, hoping that the person wouldn’t just hang up and go kill Bruce. He was taking a big risk.

“Oh, an ultimatum! That’s big talk for a little boy. You must really want to do this. Are you trying to prove yourself to your hero?”

Not waiting for a reply, The Darkling pulled the phone away from his ear and placed it under his chin, deep in thought. 

Robin didn’t answer, hoping that the kidnapper was at least _thinking_ about his ridiculous proposal. The silence was deafening. Suddenly he remembered something, the one thing that was so important to every ransom call – proof of life.

“Proof of life, I want proof of life!” Robin demanded, not knowing if the person on the other end of the phone was even listening

* * *

Bruce listened as the man talked on the phone. The Darkling’s voice was rising in anger; he was definitely talking to Robin. The Boy Wonder was good at getting under a person’s skin. He watched the man pull the phone away from his ear thoughtfully and knew that Robin had presented the alternative trade.

_Don’t agree; it’s not him you want! Come on, Robin, remember what we’ve talked about, what you’ve been trained to do in these circumstances!_

The millionaire heard a yell, although he couldn’t make out the words, and hoped it was something about talking to him.

The Darkling put the phone to his ear and said, “You don’t deserve that. You have been nothing but trouble so far. How does Batman put up with you?”

There was a short pause and then the man continued, “However, I’m going to allow it, but _only_ because I want Batman to know that I am a man of my word.”

The Darkling brought the phone to Bruce, who inaudibly sighed with relief.

“Bruce, Bruce, are you alright?” Robin’s voice was tight with stress and Batman wanted to yell at him to calm down.

“I’m here, I’m fine and you need to know how to fly,” he said quickly, knowing there would be consequences for that.

“What are you talking about? Fly? I don’t understand. What…”

The young voice was cut off as the man pulled the phone away and kicked Bruce in the side. Hearing a grunt of pain, Robin yelled, “If you hurt him, I will…”

“Oh _shut up_ already!” the man growled into the phone. Removing it from his ear he looked at Bruce and said, “That was smart, attempting to give him a hint. You’re right; he needs to learn to fly.”

Walking away he resumed speaking to Robin. “Alright, _sidekick_ , I’ll take you up on your offer. We will meet at the old, abandoned circus grounds on the outskirts of the city. Come alone or both you and Bruce Wayne will meet an untimely death. Midnight.” The kidnapper slammed down the phone before Robin could answer.

Bruce closed his eyes, disappointed in himself. He had said the wrong thing, inadvertently encouraging the man to accept the amended exchange. Batman wanted nothing more than to jump up and tear the guy to pieces but Bruce couldn’t even scoot the chair forward. He opened his eyes wide as it registered. The circus grounds – the worst possible place for Robin to have to face a villain alone.

_He can stay strong until Batman is able to join him._

* * *

In the Batcave, Robin closed his eyes, too. _The circus grounds._ Of course it had to be the one place in all of Gotham that Robin felt he _needed_ Batman’s strength and support. But Batman wouldn’t be there; it would be Bruce Wayne, who wouldn’t be able to do anything. 

“Robin, Robin!” Commissioner Gordon was practically shouting at him. “What is this about a trade? You can’t do this without Batman; he’s the one the kidnapper wanted in the first place! Don’t do this!” The commissioner’s voice softened as he tried to reason with the boy. “You know he wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger.”

Robin’s eyes flew open and he shouted, “So Batman’s mission is to protect Gotham and its citizens while mine is to selfishly protect myself?! Is that what you’re saying? Bruce Wayne is a vital part of this city and I will not have him killed because you think that Batman will be disappointed that you agreed to this. I neither want nor need your permission!”

The Boy Wonder slammed the phone down in frustration and instantly regretted his words and actions. Commissioner Gordon was just trying to do what he thought was right. The teenager briefly debated whether or not to call and apologize but dismissed that thought for later. He had less than five hours to come up with a sensible plan – one that could be executed with minimal damage to Bruce. Robin knew he could take care of himself once Bruce was safely out of the way. All he would have to do was hold out until Batman arrived, which hopefully wouldn’t take too long.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, BethanyAngel!

“Now that our evenin’ is planned,” the man stated as he strutted in front of Bruce, “let me properly introduce myself. I am The Darkling, as I told you earlier. There is no connection between myself and a poem with the same name. I use it as a distraction – people like to look for clues – and it usually works,” he laughed.

“I’m sure this time will be no different. Anyway, the people of my homeland rejected me when I attempted to become their hero and I was forced to leave. In retrospect, kidnapping people so I could rescue them was not one of my best ideas,” he said thoughtfully. 

“In any case, I began searching for a new place to call home and, after traveling around a bit, I learned of a city that adored its hero. The Batman – he even has his own action figure, did you know that? I am going to rid Gotham of Batman and that _boy_ who was foolish enough to offer himself as bait. The populace will need someone to swoop in and assuage their fears after the death of their champion. I will be that person and _I_ will become Gotham’s new hero.” 

The man started walking around the room, murmuring quietly to himself, “The kid will have to be taken care of quickly, probably even tonight. Batman won’t know it, though, until he shows up to rescue him. He will be easy to take down when he sees the boy’s dead body. I might not even have to kill the Bat, he might die of grief.”

Laughing, The Darkling wandered back to the desk to adjust his plan. The one for Batman wouldn’t work on the sidekick.

* * *

Bruce struggled to concentrate on devising a strategy to escape. The man was talking about the _death_ of his partner. He could, unfortunately, visualize himself kneeling next to Robin’s lifeless form while his heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. The guy was right; he would be an easy target. So, Bruce just wouldn’t let it happen.

There was no way he was going to let Robin out of his sight if the exchange actually occurred. Really, though, it was a moot point because he was going to escape, Robin was going to have a better plan – because offering himself as a replacement was the _worst_ plan and Batman would be discussing it with him later – and this “Darkling” would be taken care of before any trade could be made. He knew Robin would eventually link the villain’s name to the poem and hoped that he wasn’t focusing too much on it since it didn’t contain any clues.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he tested the knots again and was frustrated to find that none of them had loosened even a little bit after all the tugging and twisting he had been doing. His arms, from his elbows down to his hands, had gone numb long ago but he continued to pull at the ropes with his shoulders. The movements were nearly imperceptible, even when he was straining against the bonds with all the strength he had left in his body. He heard laughter and looked up to see the villain-trying-to-turn-manipulative hero watching him fight to get free.

_You won’t be laughing in a couple of hours. Robin is extremely capable of taking you down and I won’t be far behind. Arkham has a vacancy with your name on it._

He was unintentionally giving the man the Bat-glare as these thoughts ran through his mind.

The Darkling’s laughter ceased as he noticed the ferociousness of his prisoner’s glare. None of his other victims had still been fighting this long into captivity.

_I guess Gotham makes them stronger…._

“Just so you know, in case you haven’t realized it, knots are my specialty. Even if you can free your arms, which you can’t, they are too numb to do anythin’ by now. You will be in the same predicament you are currently in except your arms will be flopping by your sides instead of tight behind your back. It’s no use; you might as well give up.”

“I’ll have time to give up when I’m dead,” Bruce shot back.

“That can be arranged. I can exchange you for the baby sidekick and still be able to kill you both. I’ve heard that he isn’t very good at what he does, well, what he’s _supposed_ to do. From what I have observed, although I’ve only seen him on TV, all he does is follow Batman around saying ‘holy this’ and ‘holy that’ and punching his hand with his other fist.”

“Robin is more of a man than you are and he could knock you out with one punch!” Bruce shouted furiously. He quickly took a deep breath and pushed all the emotions off his face.

_Calm down and be careful._ _You are Bruce Wayne; you don’t know Robin very well._

“Ah, I see I’ve hit a nerve. So you’ve met the lad, then? Tell me, does he look as scrawny and senseless in person as he does in all his pictures?”

Bruce tried to contain his rage as he quietly growled, “I _have_ met him and he is strong and smart. You don’t measure up.”

“We’ll see, Mr. Know-It-All Millionaire, we’ll see,” The Darkling smirked as he returned to the papers laid out on the desk in front of him.

* * *

Robin stood at the Bat-computer, gazing intently at the picture on the screen. He had the place memorized, he didn’t really need to be there staring at it. However, Batman had trained him never to overlook anything so studying a map of the circus grounds was an automatic action.

He had given up on the poem after wasting an entire hour looking for a connection between it and Bruce Wayne or Batman. He looked at his watch – 9:57. Now he had less than two hours to come up with a stellar plan.

_Bruce’s life is on the line and I can’t think of anything that will allow me to rescue him without trading myself! I’m going to just have to do the exchange, for real. Holy razor’s edge…._

Robin ran a hand through his hair and walked away from the picture, wandering around the Batcave with no specific destination in mind. He had made his decision; he was going in with no plan to get out. He would do exactly what he had told the voice on the phone: give himself up in order to free Bruce Wayne. Batman would return for him. Even if Bruce couldn’t become Batman right away, he would eventually find him. Robin was strong; he could wait. 

The teenager figured he’d better get going if he wanted to obey the traffic laws and make it to the circus grounds early enough to find a good vantage point. This time he _had_ to drive the Batmobile; he couldn’t show up in a car owned by the man for whom he was trading himself. He walked over and sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Atomic batteries to power. Turbines to speed,” he whispered looking at all the buttons.

He was officially scared of the Batmobile. Well, more specifically, scared of driving it. Robin had watched Batman drive it enough that he knew which buttons to push and when, but he felt so small. He had barely made it to the city center in a regular car. Now he had to go all the way to the edge of Gotham in the _Batmobile_! What if he crashed? What if he totaled it? He would be in so much trouble. He would never be allowed to drive again!

“Holy fate-worse-than-death,” he muttered. 

Gathering what courage he could, Robin buckled his safety Bat-belt and started the engine. Suddenly, he unbuckled and jumped out, racing over to grab a Batsuit. That would enable Bruce to return as quickly as possible. Robin didn’t want to be _there_ , the place where his life had been torn apart, alone. He needed Batman’s strength. Returning, he placed the suit on the passenger seat and re-buckled himself.

“Okay, it’s just the Batmobile, just another car, no big deal, I’ve never touched anything on this side, I know what to do, just take it slow,” he stammered nervously.

Gently pushing on the gas pedal, he was shocked when the Batmobile shot off like a stone from a sling.

_I barely touched it!_

He pushed the brake down hard, slamming to a stop and probably giving himself whiplash.

“Okay, sensitive pedals, deep breaths, my neck is going to be sore tomorrow, no big deal, just be careful…” he mumbled as he attempted to calm himself.

Trying to touch the pedal lighter than he had before, he was relieved when the Batmobile moved forward rapidly but nowhere near as fast as the first time. Jumping when the camouflaged door swung open, Robin quickly corrected his accidental swerve and was on the road to Gotham City, 14 miles away. Another 25 miles after that and he would be near the circus grounds.

_I got this._

* * *

The villain was frustrated; Bruce could tell by the creases in his forehead. He hid a smile, assuming the man couldn’t figure out a way to prepare for Robin even though he had quickly formulated a plan for Batman earlier in the afternoon.

“A trap, it has to be a trap,” The Darkling muttered crossly. “Why else would Batman allow a sidekick to take his place?”

He glanced sideways at Bruce and smiled as an idea began to take shape in his head.

“Hey, millionaire man, have you ever seen a Robin fly?” he shouted from across the room. “If you haven’t, you are in for a real treat tonight! I don’t think he’ll stay up in the air very long, though, so you better pay close attention.”

Laughing to himself, The Darkling started to scribble an outline of the scheme in his head.

Bruce’s hidden smile turned into an outright frown. What had the man figured out for his partner? In order to make Robin “fly”, The Darkling would have to persuade him to use the old, rusty circus equipment and Robin was too smart for that – especially after everything that had happened to his family.

_Robin has a plan; he has to have a plan._

Bruce was confident in his partner’s athletic abilities so he dismissed the ‘Robin won’t fly for long’ portion of the arrogant villain’s taunt. It was the setting that worried him. The traumatic memories that would be stirred up in Robin could cloud his judgement and put a strain on his emotional stability.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” the enthusiastic voice of The Darkling pulled Bruce out of his thoughts. “Oh, wait, you canna’ go like that. Here, let me help you,” the man said as he slammed his fist into the side of Bruce’s head, knocking him out.

The villain released Bruce from the chair, dragged his body outside and dropped it in the dirt. He shook his head in amusement as he looked at the weed-infested path that led to the bedraggled circus tent. “Know-it-all didn’t even realize we were already here. Now _that_ would have been something helpful for the boy to know.”

Glancing down at the motionless figure, the man said, “Let’s set you up for the show. I canna’ wait to see the little sidekick fly.” 

* * *

Robin turned off the Batmobile’s headlights as he rounded the corner, knowing that he would soon be able to see the old Big Top, if it was still standing. The Batmobile climbed the short incline silently and Robin stopped to stare at the familiar sight upon cresting the hill.

The color drained from his face as memories came rushing back, both wonderful and horrible: playing with his dad in their trailer; stealing bacon from the skillet as he ran through the kitchen on his way outside; flying on the trapeze in practice, completely trusting his parents to keep him safe; performing in front of thousands of people as they cheered him on; the noise of the gun as its bullets tore through the wires that attached the trapeze bars to the rafters; the sight of his parents’ bodies on the ground, lying in a pool of their own blood; the laughing face of the madman who had taken his life from him.

He didn’t notice the tears rolling down his cheeks or the slight shaking of his hands as took them off the steering wheel and unbuckled his safety Bat-belt. Exiting the car, he folded his arms across his chest and let his head drop.

_Deep breaths, in and out. Bruce needs me to be strong._

* * *

“How can a softie in a suit be so heavy? It’s not like he has much fat on him,” The Darkling muttered to himself as he painstakingly dragged Bruce’s body across the ground, heading for the main tent.

_I need to work out more often._

Finally arriving at what used to be a flap, he entered and let go of Bruce in order to rest his arms.

_Not much time left; I’m sure the little sidekick will get here early to try to gain an advantage._

The villain grabbed the body of the millionaire again and went to set up the trap. 

* * *

Standing up as tall as he could, Robin shook his arms out to release the tension and rolled his neck around in an attempt to clear his mind.

_Okay, no more neck rolls. I need to discuss the sensitivity of those pedals with Batman. At least I won’t have to drive on the way home._

These thoughts distracted him from his true purpose and he pushed them aside. He didn’t want to go down unprepared so he went to the nearest tree and quickly climbed about ten feet up to survey the area. He looked at his watch – 11:21.

_The guy, whoever he is, will probably want to be here early to…_.

Robin’s thought was interrupted as he saw movement to his right. He lost it as he looked over and searched impatiently in the dark. There it was, a bulky shadow dragging something heavy across the road that led to the main tent. He watched as the silhouette went through the entrance and dropped what appeared to be a motionless body ( _Bruce!_ ) only to pick it right back up and continue deeper into the tent.

_Go now, before he has time to set up some sort of trap! No, be patient._

He checked his watch again – 11:26. He still had half an hour. Would the bad guy be upset with an early arrival? Would he decide to just kill Bruce because Robin hadn’t followed instructions? He couldn’t chance it; he would have to wait. Ten minutes passed; then fifteen more. Robin was still sitting in the tree.

_What are you doing?! Go sneak around and find a place where he wouldn’t expect you to enter. Holy naive, you are an idiot sometimes! Holy non-use of Bat logic! Holy oversight! Holy…._

Robin recognized the nervous rambling in his head and quickly did his best to shut it off. He dropped quietly from the tree but misjudged the height and jammed his right ankle as he hit the dirt. Forcing the sudden spike of pain to the back of his mind, the Boy Wonder crept stealthily around one of the smaller tents toward the back tunnel that led to the ring.

A few words from that heavily accented voice he had heard on the phone rumbled through the passageway as he entered. Robin hoped that it was the only unrecognizable voice he would hear. The words were low and jumbled; the teenager couldn’t understand any of them.

“It’ll never happen – he won’t do it. He is smarter than you, like I mentioned before, and he will find a way around it. This won’t work; you shouldn’t even try it.”

There, that was Bruce’s strong, confident voice.

_Good, he’s conscious_.

People were always easier to rescue when they were awake.

“I know what you are doing. You _know_ he will do it so you are trying to talk me out of it. You’re wrong; it will work and he will fly. Then fall, of course, as he attempts to save you. _I_ am smarter than _you_ , softie-in-a-suit,” the man replied arrogantly. “I am The Darkling and I know almost everything there is to know about so-called ‘heroes’. A little kid sidekick will do pretty much anythin’ to show a mentor how much he is improving. And in this case,” he continued, “I’m sure the mentor will be watchin’ from somewhere.”

Robin could hear the tight, but controlled, anger – with a tinge of concern – in Bruce’s voice as he responded, “He is not a ‘little kid sidekick’ and he is perfectly capable of taking you down. You will regret doing this.”

There was the crisp sound of athletic tape being torn and then footsteps pounded across the cement floor.

_Why does he sound worried? It’s obviously a trap but he knows I can handle myself._ Robin stiffened at the next words he heard:

“He will go up there to rescue you; he has been trained by Batman. But he won’t be able to save you from that height without sacrificing himself.”

The sound of chains rattling unnerved Robin and he closed his eyes in distress.

_I will not let it happen again. I will not lose Bruce like I did my parents. I don’t care if I have to sacrifice myself; I will NOT watch him fall to his death!_

The image of two bloody and mangled bodies appeared in his head and he trembled with fear and rage, opening his eyes in an attempt to erase it from his mind. His body demanded that he sprint through the end of the tunnel and take care of the man responsible for these feelings. His head prevailed, though, encouraging him to find out more about both the man and the trap before risking Bruce’s life.

Noticing a slim ray of moonlight about two feet away, he moved toward it and peered through the small tear in the fabric. Bruce was about thirty feet up in the air and hanging from his knees on…Robin swallowed hard as memories again flashed before his eyes.

The dirt and chalk mix on the ransom note now made sense. A trapeze; of course it would be a trapeze. His trained eye detected the slight swaying of the apparatus; it was not going to hold for long. No longer caring how anyone would react, he burst through the flimsy cloth material, racing to the ladder that would take him up to the other trapeze.

A laugh resounded around the circle of the tent.

“I knew it! I knew he would do it! Heroes are all the same – rushing in to try to save the day only to fail miserably, most of the time anyway. Hey, idiotic sidekick,” the man yelled up to Robin, who was ascending the ladder, “you’re not going to make it in time. The chains are rusty and ready to fall apart. And how many times have you even _touched_ a trapeze? You’ll never make it,” he taunted the last sentence in a sing-song voice.

Robin growled in his head as he reached the top and judged the distance.

_If you only knew. Bruce was right; you WILL regret this._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, 77reader!  
> I know nothing about trapeze routines. I have a background in gymnastics and that helped me with some of the descriptions. Please keep in mind that the entire routine takes less than thirty seconds to execute. The writing makes it seem like it takes longer than that because I had to describe everything as clearly as possible so you could see the same thing I did (in my head). I hope it worked! :)

Bruce heard the tearing of the fabric and closed his eyes.

_Go for him; stop HIM! Don’t let your emotions take over._

He was unable to vocalize any of these thoughts, though, because he had tape over his mouth again. The recognizably quick steps of his partner’s feet became louder and Bruce knew what was about to happen. Opening his eyes, he saw Robin rapidly climbing up the ladder that led to the other platform.

The second trapeze was too far from the platform for _anyone_ to reach, even a Flying Grayson. Bruce had a lot of confidence in Robin’s abilities but it had been several years since he had been in the circus and trained on the trapeze. He saw Robin estimating the gap and frantically shook his head, trying to discourage his partner from making the jump.

_He’s going to fall; it’s too far; he’s not going to make it; DON’T DO IT!_

He had an inkling of how Robin must have felt as he watched his parents plummet to their death.

* * *

The Darkling watched in amazement. The boy was actually going to try the jump. This was working out better than he thought it would. The kid would die and Bruce, who was perfectly safe unless his trapeze was disturbed, would be freed as promised. Batman would come after his sidekick and would be an easy target, just as he had planned. Laughing loudly, he sat down in a nearby chair and waited for the show to begin.

* * *

Robin removed his boots as he analyzed the condition of his partner: legs not tied, just placed over the bar and a fishing net wrapped around his ankles. The teenager glanced down to grab a Bat-knife from his utility belt then began to slice off his tights at the calves while continuing his observations: arms hanging straight down; ropes wound tightly around the wrists and athletic tape over his mouth.

Thinking quickly, and with his previous training coming back to him easily, Robin organized and arranged his performance: get to the trapeze; swing once, maybe twice; double backflip to grab the outside of Bruce’s wrists; use the momentum from the beginning of the swing to pull his legs up and push his ankles through the thin gap between his partner’s arms, wrapping his feet around them while letting go of his wrists; take the flight on the backswing to grab the first trapeze and shoot Bruce to the platform Robin was currently one – hopefully with enough momentum to get his entire body away from the edge – and then…do something to get himself out of the air.

That last part depended on where Bruce’s former trapeze would be. Everything had to be perfectly timed. One millisecond too late would mean the body of the man he owed everything to would meet the same fate as the other members of The Flying Graysons. He would relive his worst nightmare.

The Boy Wonder had one more thought that concerned him before he prepared to take off: Bruce was Batman and his muscular body was much heavier than any of Robin’s family members. It would take all of the teenager’s lower body strength to get Bruce to the platform and his right ankle was not one hundred percent.

Robin lifted his right leg and rolled the ankle around a few times. It would be fine; everything was going to work out. He had been trained for this since he was born. It would be easier than driving the Batmobile and he had already done that. A shade of laughter flashed through his eyes. It was going to be fine.

* * *

Bruce stared into Robin’s eyes. He could see the calculations swirling through the boy’s brain. The man could also sense the tension and stress. However, there was nothing he could do to stop him. His best option was to hold his entire body perfectly still and make it as easy as possible for Robin to do whatever it was he was planning.

He watched with concern as Robin rolled his right ankle. He couldn’t be sure from this distance but it looked swollen. A shadow of mirth flickered in Robin’s eyes. Glancing down into Bruce’s eyes and erasing any emotion from his own, Robin gave him a quick nod and stepped back in preparation for his jump. Bruce tried one more time to discourage him from taking the leap but Robin’s muscles were already engaged. Bruce, and by extension Batman, was helpless to prevent Robin’s flight.

* * *

The Darkling was becoming annoyed. Why was the kid just standing there? He looked like he was frozen. Was he too scared to try it now that he had seen the distance he would have to travel? Well, sidekicks were never as powerful as the real heroes. He wouldn’t get a show after all.

A small movement caught his eye, the rolling of an ankle. He grinned; so the kid was already injured. There was absolutely no way anything interesting was going to happen now. He sighed in disappointment as he stood up from his chair. He was going to have to climb the ladder and push the kid off himself. So much effort to take care of someone so tiny!

The next movement surprised him – a step back as if in preparation. Astonished, he sat back down to watch the boy attempt the leap that would lead to his deadly descent. _Batman_ wouldn’t be able to get there, much less his scrawny sidekick.

“Holy something stupid you would think of to say!” he yelled, laughing as he mocked the boy, hoping to break his obvious concentration. It didn’t work but it didn’t matter.

Shrugging, The Darkling yelled, “Goodbye idiotic sidekick!”

* * *

Both Bruce and Robin heard the disparaging comment but neither reacted to it. Bruce was watching Robin focus all of his energy towards the death-defying – Bruce could only hope that description fit – jump. Robin just didn’t care; all he could see was Bruce, ready to plummet to the ground.

Pushing all unusable thoughts and emotions from his mind, Robin took a deep breath, ran toward the edge and leaped into the air, stretching his entire body out toward the trapeze he _had_ to reach. Bruce gasped through the tape then reminded himself not to move even an inch. It had begun.

Robin’s ankle hadn’t been strong enough to help him efficiently exit the platform; he wasn’t going to be able to grab the bar with his hands. In a split second he changed the routine, effortlessly shooting his arms straight down and executing a front layout to give himself more distance. He bent his knees as he recognized the feeling of proximity to the bar and solidly wrapped them around it, initiating the first forward swing.

Not allowing himself to waste energy by breathing a sigh of relief, he sat up and grabbed the rusty chains, spinning backwards around his flexible shoulders to a half-handstand then dropping to grab the bar with his hands. He had to use an extra swing before taking off to grab Bruce and he was not pleased with himself. Timing was everything and that third swing was a waste of it.

Refocusing, Robin sent movement signals down his body. His muscle memory was returning rapidly and he realized he didn’t have to think too much about how to contort and twist his body. The freedom he felt while flying through the air was exhilarating. But he pushed that emotion aside as he prepared for the double back and Bruce’s wrists.

_The outsides to flip to the insides; short and quick to my ankles then flex around his arms._

* * *

Bruce breathed a sigh of relief as Robin latched onto the bar. It had looked as if the teen didn’t have enough distance and Bruce had almost closed his eyes. He knew that all of Robin’s intense, early childhood training wouldn’t allow him to forget everything but that swift adjustment in the air surprised even Batman.

Bruce didn’t know the plan, and probably wouldn’t have been able to understand it quickly enough to execute it well, but he trusted Robin completely. And it looked like the Boy Wonder was about to fly in Bruce’s direction.

_Don’t move. That’s the only way I can help. Don’t. Move._

* * *

He couldn’t believe his eyes; the boy already knew how to fly! The Darkling was frustrated.

_I should have just gone up there and pushed him off when I had the chance._

But, watching the kid swing back toward his platform, he knew there couldn’t be a plan. How could a _sidekick_ rescue a man whose hands were tied? He grinned as he remembered the flaws on the chains of Bruce Wayne’s trapeze and leaned back in his chair. It could hold no extra weight; it was ready to snap. There was no problem anymore. This was going to be good.

* * *

The double back was flawless and Robin timed the kick-out perfectly. It was the same move he had done over and over since he was three. What he hadn’t anticipated was the weakness of Bruce’s trapeze. He caught the man’s wrists easily but was horrified at the sounds he heard as he flipped over and wrapped his feet around the insides of his partner’s arms. The same creaking sounds as the ones from his past.

Robin realized he should have examined the wires and chains before finalizing his routine. There was no time to send Bruce to the far platform.

“Bruce, kick off, now!” he yelled frantically, desperately hoping the man had heard him.

The teenager waited for the tell-tale movement that would inform him of the freedom of his partner’s legs. It was taking too long, this wasn’t going to work.

* * *

Bruce was startled at the panic in Robin’s voice. He, too, had heard a small creak but then he realized that it wouldn’t affect him the way it would his young partner. Robin was more experienced in this arena so Bruce kicked as hard as he could, flinging his legs straight up in the air. He knew this had to be another amendment to the original plan and he was worried for both of them. 

* * *

The villain was laughing hysterically. The kid obviously didn’t know about the useless chains and was now in full panic mode. That backflip was pretty impressive, though.

_If you don’t die now maybe I’ll just keep you around for entertainment purposes._

* * *

They weren’t going to make it. Robin knew he didn’t have enough momentum to tear Bruce’s muscular body away from the trapeze _and_ fly far enough to grab the platform that had been closest to Bruce. He needed the backswing that would return them to his trapeze. It was too late, though – the wires would break before the backswing could even begin.

Robin’s right foot was sliding all over his partner’s arm, his ankle not strong enough to fully flex around it. He was about to drop Bruce, about to watch him fall just as his parents had fallen. The only difference would be that this time it would be _his_ fault.

An idea suddenly whizzed through his mind. It was risky, and there was a good chance that only Bruce would survive, but that was better than watching him die. There were no other options; he would accept the risk.

“Arch your back, now!” he shouted. “Engage your abs as soon as you feel the platform and throw your body forward. I _will_ come back for you!”

_And I will **not** let you fall!_

All of this was happening in a matter of seconds. Bruce was confused but he followed Robin’s directions and arched his back. He was horrified, however, when he heard what he thought were the words “I will come back’’. There was nowhere to come back from if the chains broke. Robin must know something he didn’t; he was a Flying Grayson after all.

Suddenly, Bruce realized that Robin had folded himself in half, spinning the two of them around like a wheel so that he, Bruce, was about to slam into the platform. He felt his partner’s feet forcefully disengage from his arms and recognized that Robin was letting go to save him.

_No, Robin, don’t!_

Bruce knew it was too late – his stomach smashed into the platform, he felt the sharp ‘crack’ of a damaged rib and the breath whooshed out of him. The man reached forward for something to grab with his wrists still bound. As he started to slide backwards he felt the ring that held the trapeze in place when it wasn’t being used so he dug his fingers into the hole. He could stay for now, catch his breath and then he would be able to climb up. He squeezed his eyes shut when he heard the smack of something hitting the ground.

_Please, no…._


	5. Chapter 5

Robin had never done this before. It was not something his parents had taught him but he thought he could make it work. He folded his body in around his stomach, throwing his hands forward as if trying to re-catch the bar. The teenager felt Bruce arch his back so he thrust his ankles off and away from his partner’s arms. The right one didn’t allow Bruce to gain much momentum and Robin grimaced as he heard the sound of a body slamming into a hard surface.

_Please hang on, don’t let go, goodbye._

Something had happened, though. The trapeze was dangling and swaying dangerously but only one chain had snapped off. There was a slight chance that Robin could grab it and fly back to his bar. Trying was better than giving up and letting himself fall.

The Boy Wonder had a little extra force from pushing off of Bruce’s arms and was able to grasp the end of the bar with his left hand. Immediately, he heard the wire snap. He was falling rather quickly and didn’t have time to think about anything, much less finding one more way to try to save himself.

Robin watched the concrete come closer and saw the face of a madman who was standing up, eyes wide with terror and shock. This face, however, was different than the one he remembered from the last time he was at the circus. Angling his body, the teenager spread his arms and legs to try to slow himself down while turning towards the man responsible for all of this. Maybe Robin could turn the madman into an asset by forcing him to accidentally catch the Boy Wonder. But he was coming in too fast.

Robin pulled his arms in as he slammed into The Darkling, knocking them back over the chair, which shattered and sent an armrest into the side of his head. Dizzily, the teen attached his hands to the front of the man’s shirt and pushed himself up as they crashed to the ground. Bad idea for the health of his arms but at least he hadn’t collided with the concrete head first.

They landed hard and Robin suddenly couldn’t breathe. He felt his ribs crushing his lungs as the two bodies flipped over each other and rolled to a stop with Robin on top. His arms collapsed as the man’s head bounced off the floor and cracked him in the forehead, knocking him out. The momentum from the impact shoved Robin’s body sideways and he landed on his back with his right wrist hooked at an awkward angle under the collar of the villain. His own head rebounded slightly off the ground and both bodies went limp – sending the sound of a final struggle for air drifting toward the night sky. 

* * *

Bruce pulled himself up as quickly as he could with what little strength he had left, his ribs and abdominal muscles screaming in protest. He didn’t want to look down, didn’t want to see Robin’s lifeless body. There was no way he could have survived a fall from this height.

He looked anyway and a small spark of hope lit up inside him – Robin was motionless but on top of The Darkling. He realized that the fall would have been too fast, though, and the hope disintegrated. Robin, his partner, his friend, his _ward_ had not only sacrificed himself but had taken the bad guy out with him.

Bruce watched as Robin’s limp body rolled sideways off the man’s chest, his head hitting the ground hard. The man tore at the fishing net surrounding his ankles and used the edge of the platform like a knife. After several anxious minutes of untangling, and with the knotted rope still circling his wrists, Bruce scrambled down the ladder as fast as he could.

Skipping the last two rungs, Bruce jumped off and ran over to the bodies while yanking the tape off his mouth, tears already forming in his eyes. A pool of blood surrounded them and he dropped to his knees, bending over Robin’s body and allowing a tear to slide down his cheek.

He saw the broken bones, the bloody gash on the side of the boy’s head, the large welt on Robin’s forehead that was swelling rapidly, and the slight rise and fall of his chest. Bruce bolted upright as the last action registered in his brain. Robin was breathing!

Frantically looking around, he found the splintered wood of a chair leg and used it to free his hands, rubbing hard on the edges and becoming frustrated that it was taking so long. Finally the ropes fell to the floor and he gently probed Robin’s torso, searching for internal injuries. Some ribs were moving around but he didn’t hear the rattle of a punctured lung. That was good; it meant he could separate the two bodies.

Carefully, he unhooked Robin’s right hand, grimacing as he felt the bones grinding and heard the ‘snap’ of a muscle tearing in the boy’s bicep. He placed one hand under Robin’s neck to support it, slid the teen’s small body completely off the obviously dead one, and laid his head gently on the ground. The breathing was hitched and shallow but…Robin was alive!

“Robin,” Bruce whispered, “Robin, can you hear me? Move something; let me know you’re still with me.”

No movement, not even the twitch of an eyelid.

“Wake up, old chum. Come on, you can do it, come on.”

Bruce knew he had to wake Robin up so he wouldn’t go into a coma. He carefully patted his cheeks, staying away from the deep wound on his head, and spoke in a louder voice.

“Wake up, Robin. Come on, wake up,” he was pleading now. “I know you’re in there. Come on, old chum!”

* * *

A voice echoed around in Robin’s head. Somebody was calling him. The voice was familiar but he couldn’t connect it to a face. He felt large hands against his cheeks and heard the pleading tone of a man in need of help.

_I’ll help you, don’t worry. I’ll come for you…Bruce!_

Bruce was on the platform, hanging on with only his abdominal muscles! But when Robin opened his eyes, the man wasn’t there. The Boy Wonder was staring up at an empty platform.

“Bruce,” Robin whispered, his voice full of panic. “Where are you, I can’t see you, why aren’t you up there, why didn’t you hang on!”

The teenager’s breathing became erratic as he struggled for air. Then a familiar face blocked his view of the empty platform.

Bruce had exhaled in relief when Robin opened his eyes. He heard the boy whispering anxiously and leaned over, looking into his eyes, trying to calm him down.

“Breathe, Robin, come on, in and out, do it with me.”

“You…you made it. I can’t…believe it…it worked,” Robin gasped. “Never tried it…”

The Boy Wonder groaned as the pain all over his body began to register in his mind. 

_He created a new trick?!_

“Holy nick-of-time, Robin,” Bruce said with a small grin.

“Status report,” Robin quietly demanded, utilizing the familiar saying Batman used whenever they were in a trap.

Bruce didn’t want to give the report, but knew he couldn’t put it off.

“Both wrists and both forearms broken; elbows seem okay but I need an x-ray to be sure; right bicep torn; two broken ribs; right ankle looks sprained; deep gash on the side of your head that will need stitches; multiple bruises that I can’t see but know are there and a heavy concussion.”

He gently reached into Robin’s utility belt and pulled out a Bat-communicator, surprised that it appeared to be in working condition. “Bat…Bruce to Batcave, come in Batcave.”

“Is that all?” Robin asked in quiet surprise, his breathing becoming a little stronger. “Hurt everywhere…so high up,” he whispered as his small amount of energy began sagging.

“Master Bruce, is that you?” Alfred’s voice was full of static as it came out of the communicator.

“Alfred, we’re at the old circus grounds. Come get us, please. Robin has multiple wounds including…”

“So does Bruce,” interrupted Robin as loudly as he could, stopping the list of injuries before it started. “I bet your abs and ribs really hurt…sorry about that,” he wheezed softly.

“I’m on my way, gentlemen,” Alfred responded. “Please behave yourselves and try to refrain from getting more injured than you already are. Batcave out.”

“How did you do it?” Bruce questioned, knowing it would be at least twenty minutes before Alfred arrived and that he needed to keep Robin awake. “I’m aware of your amazing athletic abilities but how did you create a new move while flying through the air not knowing what you could catch or where you could land?”

“Come on, Bruce, I’ve been trained by Batman, remember?” Robin grinned painfully.

“Not like that you haven’t,” Bruce countered.

“I don’t know, it just happened. I knew where everything was and I knew there was no way to get you back to ‘my’ trapeze before your bar broke. The thought of rotating us around so you would hit, painfully but effectively, just seemed…natural. It’s nothing I’ve ever learned before, it just sort of…happened. It’s what my body told me to do.”

Robin’s response exhausted him and he closed his eyes.

“Hey, I need you to stay awake. You’ve got a concussion, remember?” Bruce raised his voice a little as he spoke. 

“I’m tired,” Robin grumbled as he opened his eyes. “I just choreographed a trapeze routine, created a new trick, and fell several stories. You want me to get up and start doing some jumping jacks?”

Bruce laughed. “No, I think the jumping jacks can wait. Tell me how you landed on _him_ ,” gesturing toward the villain’s broken body, “without killing _yourself_.”

Robin rolled his eyes then replied, “I don’t know, again. There was nothing to grab onto, nothing to break my fall, I knew it was the end of the line…”

He paused in alarm as Bruce suddenly started choking.

“Holy oxygen, Bruce, what’s wrong?!”

“No, no…I’m fine…” Bruce held his emotions at bay and motioned for Robin to continue.

Robin eyed him carefully then sighed.

“Okay, well, like I said, I knew it was over. I saw him and thought that maybe I could use him to my advantage, make him accidentally catch me. At the very least, he would be knocked out and ready for the commissioner. I calculated the angles and my speed and just let it happen. I didn’t think I was slowing down enough to not die, though,” Robin grunted as several waves of pain shot through his body. “Is he…?”

“Yes, chum, he’s dead. When I heard the smack of a body connecting with a hard surface, I was so sure it was you that was going to be dead. I didn’t want to see it yet I couldn’t _not_ look. You scared me, you know that, right?” Bruce was letting the worry come through in his voice. 

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that, I guess. But if it had to be one of us, I couldn’t let it be you. I couldn’t lose you, especially not in the same manner that I lost…everyone else.”

Robin was starting to close his eyes again. They popped open as he thought of something. “What did the poem have to do with it? I didn’t get it.”

“Absolutely nothing,” Bruce frowned. “He was trying to distract you.”

“Well, it worked for about an hour. After that I gave up on it.” Then, with a small grin Robin said, “Oh yeah, and I drove the Camaro to the police station when I learned you had been taken. Nobody was home and I had to get there so, umm…” he trailed off at the look on Bruce’s face.

“The Camaro?! You couldn’t have taken something less conspicuous?!”

He didn’t show it but Bruce was proud that Robin had made it there and home safely. The man was also impressed that his partner had found a way around his trap.

“Umm, yeah and, uh, I also, kind of, well…” Robin stammered as he tried to gather the courage to tell Batman about the other car.

“Yes,” Bruce waited, feeling like something bad was coming. 

“Umm, so I, uh, also drove the…the Batmobile,” Robin finished in a timid voice.

Bruce became Batman as he growled, “You what?!”

“Well, what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t show up in Bruce Wayne’s car! I couldn’t walk thirty-nine miles in less than two hours! I couldn’t…” he stopped and his voice lost its intensity. “So, anyway, it’s parked up on the hill and it’s in perfect condition.”

Robin’s breathing hitched as pain surged through his body.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Perfect condition?”

“Yes, sir. But, um, I wanted to tell you something about it.”

“Okay,” Bruce made that one word sound as intimidating as possible.

“Geez, Bruce, you don’t have to get all mad at me. I haven’t even told you what it is yet,” Robin mumbled as he closed his eyes again.

“Robin,” Bruce almost yelled. “Keep your eyes open and finish your confessions.”

“Wonfesh lose?” Robin was becoming incoherent as his eyelids fluttered dangerously.

“No, come on old chum. Look at me. What is it about the Batmobile? Robin! Open your eyes!” Bruce stated in Batman’s demanding tone. “ROBIN!”

The teenager’s eyes opened, barely.

“The pails. They…shust…” he trailed off as his eyelids dropped again.

“RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON, OPEN YOUR EYES AND DO NOT CLOSE THEM AGAIN!” Bruce thundered as he started to panic.

Startled out of the darkness into which he had been hoping to fall, Robin’s voice shook as he whispered, “The p…pedals, too senit…no, um, sensitive, I think, uh, whiplash?”

A shadow of a smile crossed his face, followed by an expression of pain that didn’t leave.

“Alfred will be here soon, Robin. Stay with me, okay? I know you’re really hurting but I need you to stay awake. I’m sorry you had to go through all of this.” 

Robin snorted. “But I did it, didn’t I? I got the bad guy to downsize and he _did_ regret it,” he murmured proudly.

“Yes, about that,” Bruce began, “when you are feeling better we are going to have a discussion about _not_ offering to sacrifice yourself to save me.”

Robin stopped him cold: “You would’ve done the same thing if the roles were reversed. If I’m not allowed to change places, neither are you. Also, I owe Commissioner Gordon an apology.” He sighed painfully. “I kind of, uh, yelled at him so…will you please remind me to do that when we get to the Batcave?”

Bruce shook his head with a slight grin. “You ‘kind of’ yelled at him? Okay, let me get this all straightened out in my head. You drove both the bright red Camaro and the Batmobile without any accidents, ticked off a villain enough for him to accept the offer of yourself as an exchange even though he initially wanted Batman, yelled at the commissioner, choreographed a life-saving trapeze routine in less than a minute, effortlessly adjusted things while _flying in the air_ , created and performed a new trick that practically crushed me while saving my life and nearly fell to your death but took out the bad guy instead. Is that everything I need to know?”

Robin looked thoughtful. Bruce sighed. Robin opened his mouth then closed it again. Bruce ran a hand through his hair. Robin grinned. Bruce rolled his eyes. 

“I may have committed a crime. Uh, the house looked deserted, the window was already open and I needed a place to change into Robin after driving Bruce Wayne’s car as Dick Grayson so I entered. I didn’t burglarize or break in, I just entered. So, that’s only half a crime, right? Do you think the commissioner will give me a break if I apologize?” Robin sounded a little worried at the end.

“Okay, is _that_ everything?” Bruce stared at him.

“Yeah, I think so,” Robin responded. “So, um, do you think I’ll get a break?”

“Are you really worried about that?” Bruce smirked.

“Well, yeah, I mean, I did commit a crime and then later I yelled at him so I don’t think he will be extremely happy with me the next time I see him.”

Bruce smiled. “I’ll put in a good word for you as both Bruce Wayne and Batman.”

“Wait!” Robin exclaimed, cringing as his body started throbbing. “I said Batman was out of the country but then I couldn’t think of a reason why so both Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara think that you had some secretive thing to deal with and, oh by the way, they don’t think I can take care of the city while you are away, Chief O’Hara wanted to know why you left Gotham unprotected and the commissioner wanted to know when you would return to help me because, you know, _obviously_ I’m too young and inexperienced to do anything without you but won’t they be surprised when I come walking in with Bruce Wayne…”

Robin’s ramblings trailed off; he was worn out and in immense pain.

Bruce, still staring at him, was astonished as he asked, “Did Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara really say those things to you?”

Robin scowled and whispered, “Yeah but it’s okay because I think they were mad at each other when I left. You know, because of what they had said. Can I go to sleep yet?”

“Master Bruce! Master Robin! Where are you?” Alfred had arrived, right on time.

“No, Robin, you can’t go to sleep yet. Alfred, we’re over here,” the last sentence was louder than the first.

Robin started trying to push himself up but then remembered he didn’t have the use of either arm. Bruce shook his head again and lifted him up, apologizing quietly.

As he started walking toward the car, Bruce stated, “Thanks for saving my life. For the record, that was an amazing routine you put together. I especially enjoyed the last trick, although it _was_ a little painful. Your dismount was also very impressive.” 

“You’re not going to send me back to the circus are you? I mean, I loved performing and everything but there’s nothing left for me there and I really like the life I have now,” Robin’s tired voice sounded concerned.

Bruce glanced down, exasperated as he exclaimed, “Why on earth would I send you back? You’re my partner and _I_ really like the life _I_ have now, too.”

“Holy…” Robin started but his brain was exhausted and he couldn’t think of anything strange or funny to go with it. He settled for, “Holy happy ending.” 

He gave a small smirk as Bruce chuckled and said, “Only you, Robin, only you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crappy ending but, like I said, first story. Definitely not the best. :)


	6. Epilogue

Two days later the phone rang in a non-descript apartment in Galway, Ireland.

"Hello,” answered the deep voice of thirty-two year old Conall O’Reilly.

“Hello, are you the brother of Mr. Faolan O’Reilly?”

“Yes, what can I do for you?”

“This is Commissioner Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department. I am calling to inform you of the death of your brother.”

Conall dropped into a nearby chair in shock. “The de…death? Faolan is dead? No, I don’t…how did it happen?”

A silent tear slid down his cheek as he dropped his head into his left hand and attempted to process the information.

“Well…” the commissioner hesitated, not wanting to tell a grieving man that his brother was a villain.

“Well…out with it man!” Conall yelled, his tone full of distress.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this but Faolan O’Reilly kidnapped a citizen of Gotham. When this man was rescued, your brother was killed as he attempted to escape.”

“Kidnapped? No, you’re wrong, Faolan would never do something like that! I know my brother and that is NOT something he is capable of doing!”

Commissioner Gordon sighed internally. “Again, I’m sorry, sir but there are two witnesses: the man who was kidnapped and the young man who was able to rescue the victim.”

“Stop! This young man, who is he? I would like to speak with him about this so-called “accident”. What did he do to my brother?”

“The young man was severely injured and is currently recovering. He is not able to talk to you at this time,” the commissioner replied, not liking the man’s angry tone.

“Wait, Gotham City you said?” Conall asked, a little too calmly. “Isn’t that where Batman and Robin reside? I follow their escapades; they are very well-known here in Galway. Please tell me, is Robin the young man you speak of? At least give me that closure.”

Commissioner Gordon had not anticipated that question and argued with himself about how to answer it.

“Your silence tells me a lot, Commissioner. Thank you for informing me of these unfortunate circumstances. I will be in your fair city within a few days in order to bring my brother home. Goodbye.”

Conall hung up the phone and began to pace around his apartment. Robin needed to be taught a lesson; nobody messed with his younger brother and got away with it. And this kid had _killed_ Faolan. Yes, Robin was going to learn things the hard way – the sooner the better.

“I’m looking forward to meeting you, Robin,” Conall said darkly as he went back to the phone to call his travel agent.

He was going to Gotham City and he would be coming back with his brother in a coffin and, maybe, a young man’s blood on his hands. If that’s what it took then so be it…. 

THE END


End file.
